Lost

His head bled on the sidewalk between Cambridge Art Supply and the CVS

Somewhere down the street from the Wendy’s where the bus stop stood,

Mass Ave,

He laid there, fetal position like a baby with a glare in his eye that indicated this wasn’t the first time

Nor did he expect it to be his last time in this predicament

Dark liquor spilled out from a shattered glass bottle that was once wrapped in a beat up brown paper bag

People stepped over him, walking though the automatic doors of the CVS.. the normalness, only slightly squinting at the sight of the open wound at the top of his head, the slight pause of I wonder what or how, and slight relief when the lights and sirens of the ambulance in the distance

How is it we become so lost in life, desensitized by it all?

Lifted on the gurney strapped in the paramedics asking him questions he looks off blankly, he is also lost.

lost as the sirens of the ambulance began to fade, off to get patched up one night of hospital stay , to the liquor store and back somewhere between Cambridge Art Supply and Wendy’s near the bus stop Mass Ave

Which is not to far from Harvard and MIT, future success stories and downfalls of lost dreams? Mass Ave not to far from Roxbury a distance from Dorchester, where death and poverty stares back on a regular basis, Boston Latin Academy bus stops away from the Burke both housing students  with dreams of taking the 1 from Dudley to proceed as freshmen at Harvard and MIT but one student more likely to succeed than the other,  both Lost in a society pulling them back from swimming upstream both dreams are real but one is clouded by the thought they are better, a 30 min drive away in Wesley there dreams are far from clouded evidently. Money is evidence of gps in a lost society get me

But yet and still we all stand the chance of being caught up and lost, gripping brown paper bags drunk off of lost dreams and stepped over by people who are used to seeing ambition drip down into the gutters like liquor poring down the streets, we just let it fly because if not you.. who will it be, not I.. that’s what we say not I, flinching at lost like open head wounds, we think about helping with hopes that someone else makes the effort first. Walking into CVS  with our purchase somewhere near the Wendy’s across the street from Cambridge Art Supply couple steps from the bus stop, wondering why or how our dreams end up as loss souls carried away by fading ambulance sirens, the death of ambitions,

LOST.